A roar filled the air, echoing across the insides of the gargantuan cavern.
The Draguer’s brow was drenched, his forehead wrenched together in focus. His opponent swung his humongous broadsword as if it were but a twig, and his next swing knocked the Draguer to the ground. The Draguer was desperate. He could not be foiled, not when he was this close. There was no way he could lose to a human.
The human was too confident. He raised his sword with a smirk, his smug face revealing that he believed duel was already decided.
The Draguer saw his chance.
He pounced, and with one powerful kick, unsettled the man’s balance. The human made one futile attempt to drag down the Draguer with him, but the Draguer mercilessly sliced off his groping hands. The man’s screams were drowned out by the bubbling lava.
The Draguer strode over to a large stone wall riddled with unidentifiable words which had been engraved centuries ago. He made a small incision on his finger and signed his name in blood. The ritual was now complete.
Thump.
A demented cackle pierced the air.
Thump.
The land of Elduin would be his, its inhabitants his slaves.
Thump.
A leviathan emerged from the magma and focused two glittering eyes on the Drauger.
Thump.
“My name is Diavlos.”
